Living
by lewdness
Summary: Even the mafia deserve happy endings. Gokudera/Tsuna/Yamamoto implied.


Title: Living  
Rating: PG-13 (yeah, that means no porn. I WAS SURPRISED TOO.)  
Summary: They're just living through it all as best as they can.  
Pairing: It's hinted at Goku/Yama/Tsuna, but it could be seen as just Yama/Goku, I guess? Or gen, depending on how you want.  
Notes: Thanks so much to KT for betaing this for me. She's made of amazing, yes. Also thanks to **ronsard** for writing delicious KHR fic that got my ass in gear and writing after like a month of sheer _nothing_.

Something to keep in mind with this? Not everything is what it seems.

Last thing: For the lovely **pixystik** and this is olddddd.

--

**dieci**

_Hey 'dera! Hope your mission is going well, I've got my own today. Miss you lots, and be safe, k!!_

Gokudera rolls his eyes at the text, fingers sliding over the keys with ease as he types back a _What are you, twelve?_ And tucks his phone next to his gun, waiting until the plane lands to get Tsuna's text back.

It doesn't come.

**nove**

"…went wrong," Dino explains, voice soft, oh so soft. "Gokudera, I'm so--"

"You're lying," Gokudera snarls, staring at the baggage lift, eyes impossibly wide behind his glasses. Left and right people are staring, especially when he curses loudly, slams his phone shut and grabs his bags, stalking off, dialing another number. Dino picks up that, too, and never before has Gokudera wished so hard for the power to reach through his cell and choke the other person on the line. "_Give me fucking Yamamoto,"_ he growls, and then waits.

**otto**

"Tokyo, Japan (AP) – Tsunayoshi Sawada, who was a teacher's assistant at Namimori Middle. He was 41.

Sawada died Wednesday of three fatal gunshots at Tokyo Metropolitan Hiroo Hospital, said his best friend, Yamamoto Takeshi, owner of a local sushi restaurant.

"Friends are everything," Sawada told the Tokyo Times in 2018, after winning a teaching award. "And, admit it: We've all got at least one, and like I've said; the best thing ever is when your friends are just as close as your family..."

Sawada was born on…"

**sette**

Yamamoto reads the obituary, eyes wide. His hands, normally still as can be after years of cutting sushi and wielding a blade, tremble. Behind him, Dino is talking quietly on the phone with someone who _isn't_ talking quietly—the person on the other line is talking louder and louder, obviously agitated. Finally, the black-haired man turns, voice soft. "Give me the phone."

Dino doesn't argue, passing over the slim cell and leaving the room after a small, sharp nod, his face blessedly blank.

"I'm going to fucking _kill you_, Yamamoto," Gokudera snarls—twenty years has let him know when it's the sword-wielder holding the phone. Twenty years have allowed him the ability to be able to tell moods, and in twenty years, his own moods haven't gotten any better. "_You fucking--"_

_Not now_, he thinks, shivering. He doesn't want to have this conversation right now, but it's something he can't quite fight. "I tried, Gokudera," Yamamoto murmurs, like that's supposed to make everything okay. It doesn't, and he knows that. "When can you be here? Has your plane landed yet?"

A moment later, the door slams open, and Gokudera throws his cell-phone at Yamamoto's head; it misses by an inch, but he feels the bits of the phone go flying, some pieces hitting him. Gokudera is dead silent, and that makes Yamamoto feel even worse; screaming, yelling, he knew how to deal with that. Totally silent Gokudera was something rare and scary and-

"We failed," Gokudera rasps, and for good measure throws his other phone, the business one, out the window, shattering it. He's not crying, not yet, but it's a close thing, and the more he stands there, just staring at Yamamoto (who stares right back, just as quiet), the closer he gets. "We failed him."

It takes him a moment; he hesitates, licking his lips, swallowing, drawing in a breath and then letting it out. "We tried our best," he settles on, and throws his arms around the shorter man, not surprised when Gokudera throws a punch, and then throws another and another. Yamamoto just lets them fall, hissing under his breath, but _lets him_.

"We failed," Gokudera says one more time, and this time lets Yamamoto hug him.

**sei**

The ceremony is huge and elaborate and Gokudera thinks it's fucking _awful_. _Tsuna wouldn't have wanted this_, he thinks, nodding to whoever it was that had just "expressed their deepest…." Tsuna wouldn't have wanted something so goddamn big, he knows._ Then again, _he thinks, sitting heavily in one of the seats in a room off to the side, _Tsuna wouldn't wanted to have died._ Someone else walks past, mumbles something and he just nods again, not caring at this point.

Everyone makes it to the ceremony—something they never thought that they would attend after defeating the Millefiore family. Things were suppose to be right after they were defeated- things weren't supposed to go badly because—_because!_

It doesn't matter, now. All that matters now is just getting through day by day and most of all, making it through the funeral.

Gokudera doesn't remember the last time he was in a church- maybe for his sister's wedding; he's not sure. Either way, he knows that he fucking hates this one, and won't be coming back no matter what. When it comes time for people to speak, he finds he can't. Nothing he says will be good enough, not for Tsuna's memory. All they have left is Tsuna's memory, and he won't – doesn't dare to mess that up. Yamamoto speaks instead, sending him a meaningful look (_this should be you, too_) and speaks. It's nothing special; he's never been that great with public speech, never been that good with anything that's not straight-forward—so that's what he is. Straight-forward and quiet and _sad_.

When he finishes, he returns to Gokudera, and takes his hand silently, pretending he sees no tears on the man's face, just like Gokudera pretends there's none on Yamamoto's. Quietly, he starts to explain what is being said by the next speaker, translating the Italian for Yamamoto—twenty years and all he's managed to say is "_I love you," _or _"extra, extra cheese on that, yes, please."_ There are other little words and phrases, but he liked the mystery of just listening to Italian, he explained once to Gokudera. So, Gokudera murmurs what's being said, and says nothing about the way that their hands go tighter and tighter until the end of the ceremony.

**cinque**

It's a closed casket. None of them are _sure_ why, but the general suspicion is that one of those gunshots probably had something to do with it. No one asks why it's locked shut, figuring it's because he was the Tenth, and it's safest to keep it locked in case anyone less than kind decides they want to try something.

When the ceremony is over, they all tramp out to the cemetery, a line of blacks and muted colors, and through it all, Yamamoto doesn't let go of Gokudera's hand. It's disgusting, Gokudera thinks to himself, staring up at the clouds with anger. It should be raining. It should be fucking pouring, and the rest of this part of the world should be just as fucking miserable. Instead, it's bright and sunny, and there's _birds _chirping. _Tsuna would have liked it, _Yamamoto whispers, lips touching his ear.

There's a few more speeches, condolences, the priest speaking, and then people start throwing the flowers in, murmuring words to the casket. When it's their turn, they throw their flowers in, and sit down, not saying anything, until they're in their seats again.

"He'll come out," Gokudera says softly staring intently at that hole in the ground; it seems so much deeper than just six feet. "He'll come out just like--"

He doesn't resist when Yamamoto just drags him into a tight, bruising hug, closing his eyes when the baseball idiot mumbles a _No. He's gone, Gokudera…he's gone. _It should be the other way around—Yamamoto saying something so _stupid_, he thinks.

In the end, the funeral progresses as usual, and people slowly start to filter out until it's just Gokudera and Yamamoto, staring at the neatly filled grave and stone.

"Hey, Hayato," Yamamoto says quietly after minutes of just staring at the grave. There's no response, but he knows the other is listening. "D…do me a favor, okay? Don't do anything stupid. One of you is bad enough, but both--"

The look Gokudera sends him, just makes Yamamoto turn away. He gets no promises, and gives none in return.

**quattro**

Yamamoto gets a text a while later, from Reborn—Gokudera's phone is still in shattered bits along the floor of the Vongola hideout. As per the instructions, they head to Yamamoto's house. It's been 19 years, eight months, and seven days since Gokudera, Yamamoto and Tsuna had moved in together. Gokudera refused to keep count since Yamamoto keeps it neatly written on a calendar in their living room.

The house stands for everything in their past, and he can't help but remember the day that Yamamoto cheerily walked into the conference room, holding a piece of paper.

_"…Tenth, let me shoot him, please," Gokudera asks, voice bored. He doesn't even look up anymore when Yamamoto busts through; he just uses one finger to push his glasses up his nose again and goes back to reading papers. "Please. Just in the thigh. It'll heal."_

_"Haha, Gokudera, quit teasing!" Yamamoto cheerily replies, and just to be a jerk, he ruffles Gokudera's hair on his way over to where Tsuna is staring at a stack of papers like they'll do themselves the longer he waits. "Oi, Tsuna, I did something."_

_Gokudera snorts but his sarcastic comment is cut off when a pen with a stylized "T" is thrown at his head. One offended, startled look later, he carefully stands up and hands it back to Tsuna, who beams at him—and everything is okay again, a wry smile twisting up Gokudera's lips. "C'mon, retard, don't waste all of the Tenth's time!" He perches on the edge of Tsuna's desk like he owns it, and pretends that he doesn't shudder when Tsuna reaches out and ghosts fingers along the inside of his wrist, oh so damn gently. _

_"Oh, _oh_, yeah, so!" Yamamoto looks utterly excited the more he stands there, waving the piece of paper in his hand. "Remember how Reborn got us those other identities?" Tsuna nods tiredly, smiling for him, but even Yamamoto can tell that day after day of paperwork has started to wear him thin. "Well, I bought a house."_

_There's a moment of stunned silence, Tsuna blinking owlishly at him, and Gokudera just staring. "You bought a _what_," Gokudera mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. "_Why_, you idiot." _

_Yamamoto's smile widens, and Tsuna's does by sheer reflex at seeing the other so happy. "Because we need a break. Reborn even agreed with me. So. Tomorrow at nine AM, we leave for a week."_

Gokudera had protested just to protest, but had been pleased that at least the Tenth was getting a break- Gods knew he deserved one, or ten. They'd kept the house, paying for it with the money given by the Vongola family, and thought up excuses as to exactly why it was that they needed to go make sure the house was okay.

They walked in the door, kicked off their shoes, and both froze in place at Tsuna's quiet, "…Hey, guys."

**tre**

Tsuna died in an explosion.

Well, to be honest, Tsuna "died" from a few gunshots, that happened when the Vongola family (mostly Reborn) made the building explode. So technically, he did die in an explosion, just one orchestrated by his family (again, mostly Reborn), and well, he didn't really "die". Really, he pulled a rather spectacular stunt, one he'd brag about later on—much, much later on, when that haunted look left Yamamoto and Gokudera's eyes.

**due**

"You actually _hit the Tenth_!" Gokudera half-shrieks once they've got the whole story, waving his hands like an idiot. Behind him, Yamamoto places a calming hand on his shoulder, and uses his other hand to snuff out the dynamite before he blows Tsuna up—for real, this time.

Tsuna, with a bullet hole in his thigh, just smiles, and Gokudera settles down, huffing and bitching under his breath. "I'm alive, aren't I?" he says, and twenty years hasn't changed the fact that just a small smile from the brunet makes Gokudera's temper ease. The hotheaded Vongola member just makes a sour face, and sits on the bed next to Tsuna, dragging him into a hard hug while Reborn finishes sewing up the wound. When it's tied all the way, the Arcobaleno pats his knee lightly. "The rest of the family will be informed later, after the Eleventh is put into place," he explains to a bewildered twosome, while Tsuna just nods and smiles. "Perhaps you'd better explain, then."

And without another word, Reborn packs up his things and leaves.

"_Explain_," Gokudera demands, voice muffled from somewhere around Tsuna's neck. Yamamoto seconds him softly, taking his place on Tsuna's other side, and waits.

"…Oh. Yeah. Uhm. So…so you know how Reborn had those secret identities made for us? We kept our names, but he gave us those fake jobs and stuff while we worked? W-well. I figured since I was getting old-"

"Forty-one isn't _old_, Tenth!" Gokudera breaks in, at a clearly ancient age of forty_-two_.

Tsuna just smiles and hugs him, arms tight around his shoulders. "Either way. We've been pushing it for a while, and s….sooner or later, something had to give, you know? It. It could've been you, or me, or Yamamoto in that grave, only _for real_, that time. But. But I talked to Reborn a while ago, and he agreed. We've done enough—more than any have expected of us, so we…we're done. I'm really sorry I didn't tell, but it had to look real—Reborn was the only one who knew 'sides me, and so there won't be anymore assassination attempts on me, so--"

Gokudera gets it first, his eyes wide. "Just like that?" he asks, staring.

"…Yeah. I mean, we're still apart of the family and all…Reborn said he'd notify everyone who needed to know n'stuff, but he thinks the Eleventh will do a good job. He's been training them and….and yeah." He turns to Yamamoto, a hopeful smile on his face. "So what do you think?"

Lips quirking up in a smile, Yamamoto just laughs. "I think this section of town probably does need a sushi shop."

**uno**

In the end, Gokudera passes away first, in his sleep, at ninety-five years old and his buried next to his mother, and there are two empty graves next to his. Neither Yamamoto or Tsuna cry, except at the funeral and even then, it's only quiet tears, as the funeral slowly ends. Their new family is there- young Vongolas who stare at them, with the whispers of _That's Sawada Tsunayoshi! The greatest Vongola boss, just like the First!_

They pretend not to hear them, just drop the flowers on the grave, holding hands tightly for comfort.

They leave early, walking past Yamamoto's car, neither of them bringing their canes. The whispers follow, mostly curious questions of _Where are they going?_ And answers of _To mourn, leave them be_, to the younger ones.

Tsuna and Yamamoto don't come back, and their bodies are never found. Reborn is tight-lipped about the issue, just smiling at anyone who dares to ask, shaking his head. "It's a Vongola secret," he says, and that's that.

.**zero**.

Thoughts?


End file.
